Cats and Dogs: Michael's story
by vburro08
Summary: Takes place before, during, and after Cats and Dogs. When Dr. Jeff Goldberg is killed in a mysterious explosion, only his student, Michael, suspects foul play. Now, to find out who killed him, and why, Michael must team up with Butch and a team of crack canine agents to stop the villain's fiendish plot. Rated k for now cause i'm paranoid. Could change to M later
1. Chapter 1

**Hello fellow fanfiction fans, vburro08 here. This is my first fanfic ever, don't know yet if it will be my only fanfic(that is a distinct possibility). Reviews, positive or negative, are welcome. DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CATS AND DOGS OR ANY CHARACTERS FROM THE SERIES! ONLY MY OC'S. Butch, Lou, and all other characters from the Cats and Dogs films belong to Warner Brothers Home Entertainment.**

As his assistant watched, Dr. Jeff Goldberg slowly heated a beaker over a Bunsen burner. Bringing the chemical inside the beaker to a boil, he then reduced the heat under the beaker. "What are you working on now, Dr. Goldberg?" asked the assistant, brushing his hair away from his eyes. "Something that could possibly revolutionize the pet allergy section of pharmaceuticals, Michael" answered the scientist, carefully watching the boiling liquid.

"How so, Doctor?" Michael asked, curious. "This compound that I'm working on could possibly cure dog allergies in humans, permanently. That would be a major breakthrough in the medical industry! Not to mention it would be great news for people who suffer from dog allergies. Now, this is only a part of the overall experiment". "What do you mean?" "There's another scientist, a Dr. Brody in California, who's working on this as well. We've talked a few times, comparing notes, that sort of thing".

"He sounds like a pretty smart guy" said Michael. "He is" said Dr. Goldberg, removing the beaker from the burner. "He's a bit odd, but very bright, very dedicated to his research". "He sounds like a first class scientist" Michael commented, watching the scientist bustle about the lab. "He is" said Goldberg, reaching for some other chemicals that he kept on a shelf. Noticing that Michael was rubbing his eyes, he smiled. "You look a little tired. Why don't you go back to the house. I'll finish up here". "Thank you" said Michael. Rising from the table, he stretched, yawning.

Walking toward the outer door of the lab, he paused to swipe his keycard in the lock. As he stepped outside, he took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, enjoying the light breeze blowing on his skin. Walking toward the house he and the doctor shared, he paused and waved at the security guard, Sam. "Good night Sam". "Good night Michael" came the cheerful response, and he continued towards the house.

He hadn't gone more than a hundred yards when an explosion ripped through the air, shattering the stillness of the night. Michael was thrown to the ground, shaken, but alive and unhurt. Turning toward the source of the noise, he was horrified to see the lab engulfed in flames. He ran toward the building, calling for the blaze, he was temporarily forced back by the intense heat. He could hear the shouts of the hired security team, but they were too far away to help. That left only him. Looking around, he soon spotted a pair of heavy duty work overalls and steel-toed boots, along with a yellow utility helmet. It would have to do. Donning his makeshift fireman's gear, he forced his way into the burning building, despite the flames and heat. "DOCTOR! DOCTOR GOLDBERG, WHERE ARE YOU!?" Hearing a weak call for help, he turned toward the sound, blindly searching for the caller. "Keep calling, I'll find you!" he shouted.

Suddenly, he was grabbed from behind and hustled outside. When he tried to re-enter the building, he felt several arms encircling his body. Struggling proved useless, as the men were stronger and more determined than he was.

Afterwards, he couldn't remember very much of that night, just snippets here and there: questioning the doctor about the experiment, saying good night to Sam before heading toward the house. And always, the explosion, the heat, searching frantically for Dr. Goldberg, hearing his frantic cries for help as the flames consumed him.

After being treated for minor burns and cuts he'd sustained from the explosion and his failed rescue attempt, Michael was released from the hospital and taken to police headquarters to give a statement, before heading to a friend's house for some rest.

Days went by, then weeks. The police searched through the debris, but found nothing to indicate foul play was involved. Gradually, the investigation into the explosion at the lab was shelved for want of evidence. In spite of this, Michael refused to give up, and continued to search for the truth. One day, as he was reviewing the footage from the security cameras, he saw something neither he, nor the police had noticed before. It seemed inconspicuous, yet to Michael, it was like he had seen it himself.

The screen showed the security guard, Sam, apparently dropping a small package of some sort near the side of the lab. Minutes later, there was a bright flash on-screen which soon resolved into flames. But when he took the tape to the police, the officer he spoke to wasn't interested in reviewing the footage. "We've got better things to do than wasting our time chasing after leads that won't go anywhere" he said, pushing the tape back toward Michael. "Face it, kid. Accidents happen". "But this tape proves that it wasn't an accident" Michael said vehemently.

"Look, kid, I'm sorry about what happened to your friend" said the officer. "But there's just no evidence of foul play. We would have found it by now if there were". Rising from his seat, he took Michael by the arm. Furious, Michael shrugged it off and stormed out of the police station.

When he arrived back at the house he was staying at, he saw the light blinking on the answering machine. "That's odd" he muttered, setting the tape on the kitchen table. "Mark never lets the machine get it when he's around". Looking around, he soon spotted a note taped to the refrigerator door. It read " _Dear Michael, I'm sorry I have to leave, but my dad suffered a heart attack in Florida. Mom has asked that I come and be with them during this time. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but I know you can handle things at the house for me while I'm gone. I'll call as soon as I know something. In the mean time keep up the investigating. I know you'll find something the police didn't. I have complete faith in you in this matter. Your friend, Mark"_ Below was the number for a hotel near Miami that Michael knew.

Turning to the answering machine, he pushed PLAY. It was a message from Mark, letting him know that he'd arrived safely at the hotel and would call as soon as he knew anything. Turning off the machine, Michael heard the click of the mail slot, signifying the arrival of the morning he sorted the mail, leafing through assorted bills and sympathy cards, he came upon a blank, unsealed envelope. Curious, he lifted the flap and extracted a 3x5 inch card. Typed on the card was this message. "If you want more information on the explosion, be in the alley behind Tony's restaurant at 11:30 tonight. Come alone." It was unsigned.

Curious, he examined first the card, then the envelope to see if he could learn anything about the sender, but found nothing out of the ordinary. "Well, I guess I'll just have to wait 'til tonight to find out more" he sighed, sliding the card back in the night, he went to the restaurant mentioned in the note. It was a nice place for steak and beer, and little else. Checking his watch, he saw it was almost time to meet the sender, whoever they were. Hearing a noise behind him, he turned and looked, staring into the shadows.

"You made it" came a voice to his left. "For a moment there I thought you wouldn't show." "Who are you?" Michael asked, trying to get a glimpse of the speaker. "All in good time, Michael" came the answer. "First tell me what you know about what happened." "If you're the one who sent the note, then you already know that" Michael answered. "Not everything" came the reply. "For instance, I don't know what caused it, or who." "That's easy enough to answer" said Michael, frowning. "It was a bomb planted near a wall that caused the explosion. As for who planted it, it was the security guard, Sam."

"Very well" said the voice. "What else do you want to know?" "Your name, for a start" Michael said, laughing a little. "Fair enough" the voice replied. "My name's Butch. I've been assigned to this case by my boss. From what we can tell, the doctor was working on a cure for dog allergies when the explosion happened. As for what I am, you'll just have to see for yourself." "What do you mean by that" Michael asked. There was no answer, but he soon heard nails clicking on asphalt. "You're a dog!?" he exclaimed, puzzled. "Glad to see your ears are still working" said an Anatolian shepherd, as he stepped into the light. "And yes, I am a dog thank you very much."

"But how…" Just then, indistinct noises began coming out of the dog's collar. Holding up a paw to hush Michael, Butch listened to the radio, his expression annoyed at first, then changing to one of concern as he glanced at Michael. "We have a problem" he said, signing off. "My boss just told me there's a group of about five cats headed our way, ETA thirty seconds." "Can't you handle them?" Michael asked. "I mean, they're just cats for crying out loud, what's so scary about that?" "Because three of them happen to be the best cat assassins in the world" said Butch, heading toward the alley opening.

Suddenly, the entrance was blocked. Two Siamese, two ginger toms and an American short-hair stood there, glaring at Butch who stepped protectively in front of Michael. "Hand over the human, dog!" snarled the short-hair. "It won't happen, so why don't you cats just get out of our way and leave us alone" Butch growled, bristling. Letting out a yell, the gingers charged Butch.

"Run for it kid!" Butch yelled, meeting the cats head-on. As the fight progressed, it was clear that neither of the combatants was an amateur, for the cats and Butch each had years of experience fighting the other species. Soon, however, the cats had Butch backed into a corner. Looking for something that would help, Michael spotted several rocks and a length of steel chain on the ground nearby. Picking these up, he ran back toward the fighting animals.

"HEY CATS!" Hearing Michael yell at them, the gingers turned around, only to get hit in the face by flying rocks. Shrieking in rage, and pain, one of them hit Butch in the head, stunning him. "We'll deal with you later" he growled. Turning, they joined the other three cats surrounding Michael. "You're going to regret doing that human!" one of them spat as they circled, waiting to strike. Michael said nothing, waiting for them to move.

One of the cats leaped towards him, claws extended, only to be effortlessly knocked aside. Another tried his luck, with the same result. After that the short-hair pulled out a small knife. Grinning, he waved the weapon teasingly in front of him, only to be sent flying through the air by a punt, courtesy of Michael's left foot. Then, the Siamese cats struck. Pulling out shuriken, they sent them flying toward Michael, advancing as they threw. Michael used the chain to block them, then threw some rocks in return.

By this time, the other cats had rejoined the fight, and were throwing everything from glass shards to throwing knives. But, no matter how hard they tried, or what they threw, Michael blocked every shot. Finally, they ran out of things to throw. "Well now" said Michael, dropping the chain. "Looks like its hand-to-hand combat from here on out." "That suits us fine" the short-hair yowled. Jumping on to trashcans and dumpsters, the cats leaped at him simultaneously, only to collide with each other in mid-air.

"What the-"

"Where'd he go!?"

Just then, they heard a mocking whistle, but when they turned in that direction, they heard it coming from the other side of the alley. By the time they figured out what was happening, it was too late. A heavy rope net had dropped down seemingly out of nowhere, trapping the cats until Michael could tie them up with twine. "Well, that takes care of that" he said. Turning to check on Butch, he found the dog standing, staring at him in shock.

"Where'd you learn to fight like that?" he asked, walking up to the net. "My dad insisted that we learn to defend ourselves when I was a kid" Michael said. "It's paid off a number of times in my life." "I'll say it did" Butch said, walking closer to Michael. Pressing a button on his collar, he said "H.Q this is agent 127 reporting: All assailants have been neutralized. Package is secure."

"Well done, Butch" came the response. "We're sending a vehicle to your position, ETA 2 minutes." "Butch, we've got trouble" Michael said, tapping on his cell phone. Glancing at the screen, Butch saw a large group of heavily armed cats. "Where are they?" he asked. "About three blocks from this location" Michael answered. "They'll be here soon." "H.Q this is agent 127 requesting immediate evac. I'm tracking a large, heavily armed group of enemy agents approximately two blocks west of this location. ETA 30 seconds." "Roger 127. Be advised, we cannot assist at this time. Suggest moving to rendezvous point Charlie to await extraction."

"Roger H.Q., moving to Charlie, ETA 20 seconds" said Butch, trotting towards the alley entrance. Michael jogged along with him. "Where's rendezvous point Charlie?" Michael asked. "It's a warehouse down the street from here" Butch answered, looking around for enemy the group approaching them from the left, they quickly left the alley and headed for the warehouse, being careful to stay in the shadows. They soon arrived at the warehouse, only to find the building surrounded. Motioning for Butch to follow, Michael went into an alley beside the building. "If I remember correctly, there's a set of doors that lead down to a cellar that houses all the broken merchandise that comes in" Michael whispered. "It's not the most ideal entrance, but I don't see many other choices right now." "I know the one you're talking about," Butch whispered back. "That's where we have a transportation hub. We can use that to get to H.Q if the cats aren't down there."

"You saying I'm coming with you?" Michael asked. "Right now, we don't have much of a choice" Butch replied. Peering through a broken window and not seeing any movement, Butch lifted the latch, and prepared to throw open the door. "Wait" Michael hissed, pointing down the alley. A pair of cats were just walking by. Butch nodded his thanks, waiting until they passed before opening the doors. They reached the transport hub without further incident.

"Okay kid, I'm just gonna do a quick systems check, then we're outta here" said Butch, flipping various switches on the rocket-sled's dashboard. "Better hurry, Butch" said Michael. "My scanners indicate enemy movement outside." "It's done. Hop in and hang on" Butch said, jumping into the driver's seat. Pressing a button, he activated the thrusters, and soon, they were on their way.

Glancing over his shoulder, Michael saw another rocket-sled coming up behind them. When he mentioned it to Butch, the dog looked back, then shoved the throttle wide open. In spite of his efforts, the pursuing sled drew closer with each second. Unstrapping himself from his harness, Butch readied himself to jump on to the other sled. Michael reached out and tapped his shoulder. "There's no need for heroics Butch" he called. Rummaging in his back pack, he pulled out a small coin and showed it to Butch, before tossing it at the pursuing sled and pressing a button on his watch. Seconds later, they were watching the other sled grow smaller and smaller. Then, there was a small flash, and a distant bang echoed through the tunnel.

Anticipating Butch's question, Michael smiled. "It's my own gadget" he said, pointing to a handful of what looked like ordinary pocket change. "I took an old spy technique and tweaked it a little. The one I just used has a small engine that generates an Electro-Magnetic Pulse. After it fries whatever electronic it lands on, it self-destructs three seconds later." "It sure fried that thing" said Butch, strapping on his harness again. They continued on their way and reached D.O.G headquarters without further incident.

Stepping out of the rocket sled, Butch approached a door in the wall, beside which rested a paw-scanner. However, before he could lower his paw, a hidden door slid open, revealing a pair of scowling mastiffs. "Agent 127! What do you think you're doing?" one growled softly. Turning slowly, Butch asked "what business is it of yours, Kowalski?" "You know the rules, Butch" said the other. "In order to survive, this agency has to be kept secret from humans. That means no bringing them here, no revealing the rocket sleds, and especially, no talking to them".

"You do realize I can hear everything you say, right?" Michael asked, smiling a little. They had, of course, been speaking in regular dog language, so when they heard Michael speaking to them the same way, their eyes widened. Turning toward Michael, they eyed him warily. "Butch, did you know about this?" Kowalski inquired. Butch shook his head. "You do realize that we'll have to report this to the Chief, right?" asked the other. "I realize that, King" said Butch.

Turning to face Michael, he said "Sorry kid, but you'll need to wear a blind fold for a little while". "I'd be surprised if I didn't" Michael said, climbing out of the sled. Turning around, he allowed them to place a blind-fold over his eyes.

 **Author's note: well, there you have it folks! please let me know how i'm doing via review, and whether or not I should continue this story.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again fellow ficcers. My apologies for all the dialogue in this chapter, though i hope you find it as good as the first. In this chapter, we're introduced to the chief of D.O.G hq and find out some of what Michael did during the months following the explosion. DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CATS AND DOGS, ONLY MY OC'S. CATS AND DOGS IS THE PROPERTY OF WARNER BROTHERS HOME ENTERTAINMENT.**

After the blindfold was in place, they led him throught a series of doors and hallways, with many twists and turns. After the blindfold was removed, Michael looked around him, squinting against the harsh, flourescent lighting. "What is this, some kind of holding cell?" he asked. "We prefer 'Containment Chamber', but yeah, it is" said Butch, giving him look that meant "no more questions". Catching the unspoken message, Michael nodded, sitting on the floor of the cell once the dogs were outside. Closing the cell door, they headed down the hallway, leaving through a door that Michael assumed was the one they'd come through earlier.

Hours went by. Michael spent that time reviewing what he knew about the case and trying to make sense of it, but questions remained. Who would want Dr. Goldberg dead? Why would they? And how did Sam get involved? The more he tried to make sense of it, the more puzzling it became. Hearing the door opening, Michael looked up to see Butch and the agent called Kowalski entering the cell. "The boss wants to speak with you" said Butch. Stepping out of the cell, he waited for Michael to exit, then closed the door.

The boss turned out to be a corgi named Sutton. "Have a seat, gentlemen" he said, as they walked in. "Sutton!?" Michael asked, staring at the corgi. "Whatever happened to hello?" the corgi asked, grinning at the human. "You know this human, chief?" Kowalski asked. "Obviously" Sutton said. "It's been a while since we last saw each other". "Yep, it sure has" Michael chuckled, sitting on the floor. "So, how's married life treating you?" he asked. In reply, Sutton pulled out a picture of himself, along with seven small puppies, all grouped around a smilling female corgi. Michael stared at the picture, a gentle smile on his face. "That good, huh?"

"Yes" Sutton responded, gazing tenderly at the picture. Stowing it in his desk, he instantly assumed a more serious look. "I assume you're here to ask for some help solving your friend's murder" he said. Frowning, Michael nodded. "First things first. I'm guessing you have evidence to back up your suspicions" Sutton said, eliciting another nod. Michael then dug into his bag, and, pulling out the security tape he'd brought with him, he handed it to the corgi, before pulling out a VCR that grew to full size at the press of a button. "You've completed the shrink-ray I see" Sutton noted. "This is the first prototype that I've made that's actually worked for both shrinking and enlarging something without destablizing the atomic structure of that particular item" said Michael. "The VCR also doubles as a projector, so any time I want to watch VHS tapes and don't have a TV to hook into-" "You just find a blank wall and activate the projector" said Butch. "You got it" said Michael.

"So, if you had the shrink-ray all this time, why didn't you use it in the alley?" Kowalski asked, frowning. "Because I haven't tested it's effects on animals or humans yet" Michael said. "If I tested it on a living subject, and they died as a result, that wouldn't be very good for me, now would it?" "Guess not" Kowalski said, shrugging. After the tape was over, Sutton leaned back in his chair. "Well, I have to admit, it does seem like Sam is guilty. But you're sure that he acted alone?" he asked Michael. "No, I'm not" said Michael, earning a startled gance from Butch. "Why?" Kowalski inquired. "I've gone over the payroll accounts. Sam was only working part-time at the lab, and that was the only work he had, yet bank records indicate he made at least three $50,000.00 deposites during the past two months" Michael answered.

"Could it be a competitor?" asked Butch. Michael shook his head. "I checked online with state police across the country, as well as their banks, and while many of them did have withdrawals of 50,000 or more, none of it could be traced to Sam's account". "What about family?" asked Sutton. Again Michael shook his head. "That was the first thing I checked. Sam didn't have any living relatives, or siblings." "So we don't know who paid him, or how to go about finding them" Butch sighed. Michael grinned at him. "We don't know who paid him, we do have a way of finding out" he said. "How?" Kowalski asked. "The deposits were all wire-transfers"Michael said. "So we trace the numbers on the transfers and we've got our guy" said Butch. "Not exactly" said Sutton. "If we trace the numbers on the transfers, we get the bank account. Finding out who owns the account will a little harder than that". "He's right, Butch" said Kowalski. "My current master is a banker. They aren't exactly forthcoming when it comes to giving out information on who their clients are".

"So how do we find out who Sam was working for that night?" Butch inquired. "I sent an e-mail to a friend of mine who specializes in back-tracing wire transfers" said Michael. "He said it would take some time, but if I could get him Sam's account number, he'd probably be able to trace the money back to the account it came from. In the mean time, I had some of my street sources trace his movements 48 hours prior to that day. It seems that he'dalready made the bomb the week before, and was waiting for the right time".

As this was taking place, on the other side of town, two cats were hunched over a glowing computer screen, their eyes riveted on a small, red dot. "I think it's stopped moving boss" said Calico. "Excellent" chuckled Mr. Tinkles. "Now that we know the location of the formula, we can have the ninjas move in and capture it!" "Capture what, boss?" "THE FORMULA,YOU IDIOT!" Tinkles yelled, swiping at Calico with his paw. "Oh, right, that" Calico muttered. Giving an evil chuckle, Tinkles pressed a red button on the console, watching in satisfaction as the screen lit up.

 **A CLIFFHANGER, HA! What happens to Michael and the others? will they be okay? and what was that red dot anyway? to find out, you'll have to wait until the next post! A HUUUUUGGGGEEE thank you to Robert Plant of Led Zepplin and patient935 for the reviews. I hope you like the way I had Tinkles and Calico come in to the story.**

 **Until next time, vburro08 out.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Greetings fellow fanficcers. vburro08 here with another chapter to Cats and Dogs: Michael's story. In this chapter, we'll find out what happened when Tinkles pressed the button. Also, did he really think it would be that easy? DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CATS AND DOGS, ONLY MY OC'S. CATS AND DOGS, AND IT'S RELATED CHARACTERS, ARE THE PROPERTY OF WARNER BROTHERS HOME ENTERTAINMENT.**

Tinkles pressed the red button, an evil chuckle escaping as he watched the screen turn bright red. However, his look of sneering triumph soon turned to one of comical outrage as the words **NICE TRY MORON** scrolled across the screen. "WHAT!?" he yowled. "WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN!?" **IT MEANS YOU'VE FAILED JERK!** came the reply on-screen. "How's he doing that, boss?" "It doesn't matter how, what matters is that HE FOUND THE BOMB!" Tinkles yelled.

Back at D.O.G. Headquarters, Michael closed his laptop, a satisfied look on his face. "You look like the cat that ate the canary" said Butch."You mind telling us what's so funny?" "Oh, nothing" Michael replied, trying to look innocent and failing. "Michael, I know that look" said Sutton. "What gives?" "Well, I found a small bomb in my bag when we got through fighting the cats in the alley and deactivated it, then I sent a message to the guy who created it, that's all." "Do you know who created the bomb?" Kowalski asked. Michael shrugged. "No clue. But I was able to send the message through a wireless transponder the cats had on them". "Why would they have one of those on them?" Kowalski asked. "It would enable them to communicate with their boss more easily than traditional radioes, plus, if it were discovered, they'd be able to shut it off before the transmission could be traced to the receiver" Michael answered.

Shaking his head, Sutton smiled."I'm hoping the message was at least amiable in nature". "Now why would I send something that was anything but amiable?" Michael asked. "I refuse to answer that question" Sutton replied in a bemused tone. "I thought you'd say that" Michael chuckled. He smiled a moment longer, imagining the reaction of the recipient of his message, whomever it might be, before frowning and returning to the business at hand.

"How about we start with what we know and work our way from there" Butch suggested. "Good idea" Kowalski agreed. Sighing, Michael started from the beginning, leaving nothing out. Other than a question here and there, he wasn't interrupted.

When he had finished, it was past 1 a.m. and they were all rubbing their eyes. Seeing this, Sutton suggested that they all get some rest. "After all" he said "We'll think better when we're not so tired". Michael nodded. "I agree. We get some rest and return to this deal tomorrow when our heads are clear".

The next morning, Michael was jogging in a local park near town when he saw Butch talking to a large sheepdog. Curious as to what was being said, he moved closer. Looking up from their conversation, Butch saw Michael coming towards them. "Morning" he said, as Michael drew nearer. "Morning yourself" Michael said, coming to a stop. "Sam, this is Michael. Michael, Sam." " Any progress on the case so far?"Michael asked. "Nothing. You get anything?" Butch asked. Michael was about to answer in the negative when he heard his start beeping. Pulling it from his pocket, he read the text, smiling.

"What's the news?" asked Butch. "Just got the word on the account numbers from the checks. The account was registered to a Calico Tinkles here in California" Michael said. "Calico Tinkles? What kind of human has a name like that?" Butch asked. "No idea" Michael said, shrugging. "Calico?Isn't that some kind of cat?" Sam asked. "It is" Butch answered. "So we're either looking for a calico cat named Tinkles, or a human who's so crazy about cats they changed their name to match a cat breed" said Michael. "Who's to say that it 's not two cats that put their names together to open a bank account?" Butch speculated.

"Why did you say the account was registered in that name?" Sam asked. "Because the day after the bombing, the account was closed. Almost all data on it was erased, and the bank records were wiped clean" Michael said, frowning. "However" he continued "there was still some residual data left in the computer's mainframe". "Still, the fact that whoever did that was able to hack a bank's firewall is a little disturbing" Butch stated. Michael nodded. "But at least we know more now than we did yesterday".

Glancing at his watch, Michael frowned. "I've gotta go fellas. If you find out anything interesting, let me know. I'll do the same with you". "You got it" Butch said.

 **Well, that's it for now. As always, please read and review. Until next time, this is vburro08 signing out.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello again fellow fan fiction afficionados,vburro08 here with the next installment of Michael's story. More action to follow in this chapter, as Michael continues to search for answers. Will they be what he expects? or will some unexpected twists pop up? only way to find out is to keep reading. DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CATS AND DOGS. CATS AND DOGS AND THE CHARACTERS FROM THE MOVIE ARE THE PROPERTY OF WARNER BROS. HOME ENTERTAINMENT. I ONLY OWN MY OC'S, AND THEY MAY NOT BE USED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.**

For the next two months, Michael gave the case every moment he could spare. From questioning street sources, to reviewing camera footage from the night of the explosion, he did anything and everything he could to solve the mystery of Dr. Goldberg's death, and Sam's possible involvement. But it seemed as though every time he was close to a breakthrough, it would turn into nothing, and he was getting frustrated. One afternoon, he went to talk to Butch.

"It feels like I'm staring right at the answers, Butch, but for the life of me, I can't see what they are" he said one afternoon. "I know the feeling" Butch said. "Be patient, Michael. The answers will come at the right time". "I hope so" Michael said with a sigh. "They will" Butch reassured the depressed human. Just then, a car came barreling around the corner. Skidding to a stop, it's hood pointed at the bewildered duo, the car sat in the middle of the road. Sunlight glinting of the windows made it impossible to see who was driving.

Suddenly, the driver accelerated, heading straight at Michael and Butch. "LOOK OUT!" Michael yelled, shoving Butch out of the way, before jumping clear with inches to spare. His hands swept down for the revolvers he'd started wearing, and the guns came up spewing flame and lead. The rear windshield shattered and a side mirror broke off, but the driver was already too far to see. "You alright kid?" Butch asked. "Just fine" Michael answered. Feeding fresh cartridges into the empty chambers of his guns, he holstered them and turned to look at Butch. "Well, now we know we're on the right track" he stated. "How?" Butch asked. "We didn't get the license number, or even see who the driver was". "I didn't need to see the driver, just the car" Michael said, heading toward home at a jog. "Why's that?" Butch was clearly puzzled. "Because that car belongs to Sam Williams". "Your security guard?" Michael nodded, still jogging.


End file.
